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It Takes You

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Through the asylum streets

where the rain butters my hands

and mowed weeds scatter in piles on the curbs,

I look for your familiar figure

rushing between rush-hour strangers.

 

My bed is stale

with you wandering

from donut shop to open stages

silent and bewitched

by the lunar

mouth.

 

I reach my hand to cup

an autumn leaf descending

and feel    

     feather-dust

     feather blown.

 

 

© 1992 by Allison Grayhurst

amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

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Published in “Synchronized Chaos” November 2018

Synchronized Chaos November 2018: The Things We Carry

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Poetry from Allison Grayhurst

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You can listen to the poem by clicking below:

https://allisongrayhurst.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/09/it-takes-you.m4a?_=1

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